Carlota Flirtaboo, Advice Column
by Kiwi-Productions
Summary: Writing a lovelorn column? Tough. Keeping it a secret? Tougher. Nate Gray LOVES to write and always wanted a spot in the school's newspaper. But this wasn't exactly what he had in mind...


"Phew." I sighed contently, leaning back on my wheely chair and stretching my limbs like a cat. I had finally finished putting away all the papers, pens, paper clips and photographs. FINALLY. I glanced at my plastic wrist watch. 5:30 - it read in bright blue letters._ I've been here that long?_ I chuckled. Well, that's a new record for me. 2 and a half hours straight at my school's newspaper office, even though the staff meeting ended at 3:15. I looked around the office, wondering if there was something else I could do before I called it a day... and my stomach growled like a lion giving birth. That's my cue to go home. I picked up my backpack and started making my way towards the door.

"Hey Nate, wait a sec. I need to ask you something REALLY important."

It was Jessie. The paper's edit in chief and my friend. She's been working in the paper since sixth grade (I joined around the end of eight grade). Jessie was the one to come up with the idea to have a school newspaper in the first place and she went to Mr. Baggoli with the concept. But since she was twelve at the time, he took charge. Jessie started out writing short sports articles and helping a little with the layouts (she's a pro at web design) while the older kids did the, say, "harder" jobs. But sure enough, the minute we started seventh grade she became "the boss", as we, the staff, call her.

I turned around with a smile.

"Sure, what's up?" I asked. She motioned me to sit down. I pulled out a chair for her.

Gentlemen haven't extinguished.

Thank you very much.

Jessie stared into space, playing with a strand of her hair. I checked the time repeatedly, hoping she would get the hint... she didn't.

"Jessie, hurry. I don't wanna be late for dinner, mom's making meatballs today." I whined.

Patience is a virtue... but I haven't eaten since freshman lunch.

And Mamma Gray's meatballs are legendary. So much so they were on TV more than once and the dude from Kentucky Fried Chicken tried to steal the recipe in a Plankton-Crabbiepatties fashion. That's where the inspiration for Sponge Bob came from. True story.

"Nathaniel Jerry Gray, stop thinking about your stomach for once!" Jessie rolled her eyes, then laughed.

She snacks during class. Especially last period. Therefore she doesn't take my hunger seriously.

This would be the downside of being an honor society good child who respects study time and doesn't stuff his mouth with chocolate bars like certain people. My stomach growled once again, sending Jessie into another fit of giggles.

Hm. I should probably give her the "Gray Glare" now.

I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow, narrowing my eyes into mean slits. They were now cold and the smile from my face ahd been erased. Jessie hates it when I look at her that way.

"Okay, don't look at me like that." She stopped laughing abruptly. See what I mean?

Yep, always works. No one can handle the "Gray Glare".

One time in band camp this kid kept laughing about my last name and calling me a crayon. And he said I was the least cool crayon because no one hardly ever uses the color gray. I was about eight at the time but the "Gray Glare" was just as powerful then as it is now, it can make someone pee its pants.

So I did. Glared at the jokester that is. Not pee my pants.

And the kid... well, he peed his pants. True story.

Jessie's chocolate brown almond shaped eyes looked serious now. "I have an offer for you... one I know you won't dare to turn down." She added, a mysterious smile playing on her lips.

Although most of the time that smile excites me (read: scares the shit outta me), I mustn't deny looking at it it's the only way you can tell when Jessica Helena Dubois has a good idea and man, those really are good. One of them was the paper itself. Need I say more?

I leaned on the table conspiratorially. "Are you asking me out?" I joked.

"No."

"Heartbreaking."

"You'll live. Anyway, you've always wanted to have your own column at the 'Eastern Times', right?" I nodded. "Well," She played with the keys dangling from her necklace. "I came to the conclusion that..."

I leaned further on the table, my eyes getting wider and wider by the second.

I could dance.

In fact, my feet started moving under the table.

_I know you want me. You know I want ya. _

God bless you Pitbull for your wise words. But I shall change the lyrics to fit the situation.

_The paper wants me, I want the paper._

"I came to the conclusion tha you can handle it." Jessie said finally.

"Really?" I asked, trying to hide my excitement.

I had been begging her for months and months to let me do this. She always said that I wasn't ready, that the sample I had turned in in the past and recently were really good... but I need to work some more on certain things. And sure, they let me submit little articles every now and then. But it wasn't the same as having my own column. "Blah, blah, blah, something" by Nate Gray. Jessie had me working as the errands dude. If I hadn't quit was because I wanted to show her that I really did care about the paper.

"Yeah, but..." Jessie started.

"Oh, there's a but." My heart stopped. "Buts are never good."

"Nate..." She grumbled, hating the interruption.

Rule #223 of the office - thou shall never interrupt the editor-in-chief while she's having her lightbulb momentum. Whoopsie.

"Sorry, go on." I smiled sheepishly.

"Well," She paused, recollecting her thoughts. "The 'Eastern Times' is lacking something, I've noticed." She said slowly.

I started to smile.

Yes! THE NATE GRAY TOUCH! That's what's been missing all along!

_Rumba! SI! Ella quiere su rumba. LALALA I don't know spanish LALALA. ONE TWO THREE FOUR! I KNOW YOU WANT MEEEE._

In my mind I was rapping with Pitbull and dancing with all the brazilian chicks that appeared in his video and I was completely rocking out my feetie pajamas.

Weird mental vision, I know.

But the chicks still wanted me so it's all good.

"...an advice column. For the broken and the beaten, the young and the hopeless, for the romantics, for the..."

_I know you want..._

Wait, what?

WHAT DOES JESSIE WANT?!

I jumped from my seat. "YOU WANT ME TO WRITE A COLUMN FROM THE LOVELORN? Jessie, have you lost your mind?!" The wheels in my mind started turning and I stopped dancing with brazilian girls and suddenly I was besties with Dr. Phil and was losing all off my curls and had a huge bottom and was squished between two fat guys talking about their addiction to soap operas.

Apparently Jessie had anticipated my reaction, she looked incredibly calm.

"Nate, you're sensitive... and kind, the best friend anyone could ask for, the one who's shoulder is constantly damp for being cried on, you're like a therapist on speed dial, you have a heart of gold, you..."

"You just feed my ego."

"Oh, I know." Jessie laughed. Wait... wait for it... wait. Yep, there's the cocky smile. "Thing is, I think you would be absolutely PERFECT for this column. So what do you say, think you can handle it? Or should I assign this to someone else?"

"OF COURSE I CAN HANDLE IT!" I said indignantly, crossing my arms and completely forgetting for the moment that the reason I had been the office's sclave was because I wanted to be able to write freely about any topic I wanted not... this.

"Great." Jessie clapped her hands. "It's a deal." She said grandly. I smiled, jumped hyperly to my feet and started walking (read: skipping in a very manly way) towards the door. "Wait, I'm not done yet." She said as I opened my mouth to say goodbye.

I frowned and looked at her with questioning eyes. "Okay. Go ahead, tell me."

"It's got to be kept a secret." Jessie said carefully.

Huh? "Why?" I looked at her utterly puzzled.

"You don't really want to know the whole world to know you're Carlota Flirtaboo, do you?"

"I'm... WHO?!" I cried, almost falling over, turning the table upside down and sending thee paper clips, I had so carefully organized, flying out the window.

* * *

**A/N: Hello reader! You might remember this story if you were one of the ones who favorited me as an autor way back when (last year). Yes, this is the story about Nate's sophomore year, his outspoken and quirky best friend Jessie whose antics and witty remarks you all grew fond of. And of course the newspaper column that changed it all in a blink of an eye. The reason this story disappeared mysteriously (read: got deleted) was because it was "illegal" and I fixed it, but it was too late I guess. Anyway. I'm back. :-) I hope you haven't forgotten about me yet. Tell me what you think! :D**


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